Wise wretch! with pleasures too refined to please, With too much spirit to be e'er at ease, With too much quickness ever to be taught, With too much … - Alexander Pope

You purchase pain with all that joy can give and die of nothing but a rage to live.

And die of nothing but a rage to live

With too much quickness ever to be taught, with too much thinking to have common thought: You purchase pain with all t hat joy can give, and die of nothing but a rage to live

A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
And drinking largely sobers us again.
Fired at first sight with what the Muse imparts,
In fearless youth we tempt the heights of Arts;
While from the bounded level of our mind
Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind,
But, more advanced, behold with strange surprise
New distant scenes of endless science rise!
So pleased at first the towering Alps we try,
Mount o’er the vales, and seem to tread the sky;
The eternal snows appear already past,
And the first clouds and mountains seem the last;
But those attained, we tremble to survey
The growing labours of the lengthened way;
The increasing prospect tires our wandering eyes,
Hills peep o’er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!

Most critics, fond of subservient art
still make the whole depend upon a part.
They talk of principles, but notions prize
And all to one loved folly sacrifice.

This Nymph, to the destruction of mankind, Nourish'd two Locks, which graceful hung behind 20 In equal curls, and well conspir'd to deck With shining ringlets the smooth iv'ry neck.